


Water in the Lungs

by ToriCeratops



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, Grief, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-23
Updated: 2015-05-23
Packaged: 2018-03-31 21:30:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3993544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToriCeratops/pseuds/ToriCeratops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Sam forgets that not only can he not save everyone, but that it's okay if he needs to be saved from time to time as well.  Luckily, he has Steve to remind him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Water in the Lungs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [potofsoup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/potofsoup/gifts).



> This was a pinch hit and I'm sorry even that took so long!

They saw the storm coming. 

The entire city had buckled down, closed up shop, and stayed indoors.  Torrential wind, rain pelting the ground, lightning and thunder in every direction – it was complete chaos.

What they hadn’t seen coming, was the five story tall creatures that Loki summoned to ravage the place while no one would notice.   

Every Avenger was on the scene, old and new. 

Steve coordinated those in combat, sending out pairs to each creature to keep them occupied while he lead a focused effort to take each one down in turn.  Even with comms in their ears it was hard to hear, but they had worked together, trained together, long enough that they still worked.

And they worked well.

But a lightning storm is the exact opposite of ideal for those in flight – well, except for Thor, and ok Vision, and apparently Tony who had adapted his suit to withstand lightning strikes really well since meeting Thor.  So really it was just Sam, keeping low to the ground and working rescue, who couldn’t take to the air.

That was okay.  Rescue is what he’s best at. 

Sam skimmed along about thirty feet off the ground, keeping an eye on the purple-ish toad looking thing with arms and opposable thumbs and watching for it to toss another vehicle.  It seemed to be this one’s favorite past time and Sam has spent part of the last twenty minutes making sure there was never anyone in the landing zone.    He lands to start going for the next group of civilians.

“Steve, please tell me you’re almost done playing tag with Big Red.” 

The roar of the storm around them makes it hard for him to even hear himself think but the explosion from two blocks over can be clearly seen down 8th street. 

“Does that answer your question?”  He _can_ make out the smile in Steve’s voice and feels a little warmer despite the chill of the rain.

“The fine dining establishments around here are going to have a field day with frog legs.”  Tony zips past where Sam has landed to start getting people out of cars and directed to shelter and starts blasting before he’s done talking, Steve right behind him.  (A little further than RIGHT behind him but still fairly damn close.)

“In Jersey?”  From the roof he’d perched on Clint fires another arrow, this time at the creature’s eye.  It’s one of his new ones, apparently, and Sam looks up just in time to see some kind of pink foam spreading rapidly and hopefully gunking up its vision.

Tony fires at the other eye – which is the tactic they’d been taking with all the rest – and laughs.  “You’re right.  What was I thinking?  Those don’t exist here.”

The frog-creature goes still for a moment, and everything fall eerily silent for a heartbeat.  Sam stops and stares up at it just as everyone else holds their position.  None of the others had gone down easily, and this one….

There’s a rumbling in the ground. Sam can feel it, vibrating through his bones.  It’s not shaking, just, a deep, billowy rumble that eventually erupts into a roar from the creature.  He claws at his eyes and starts alternating between scratching at his own face and grasping at anything in reach while stomping and swaying his body in every direction. 

“Shit!”  Steve ducks and rolls out of the way of a foot just before it lands on him and immediately starts barking out orders. 

But they aren’t fast enough, and it gets its slimy hands on more vehicles, sending them flying in every direction.

Including one, flung far out over the bay, with two people still in side.

Sam reacts on instinct, his wings snapping back out into place and taking off without a second thought.   The sounds of combat are still coming through his comm, orders being thrown about in between smart ass comments and obscene shouts.  Even though he can technically hear it, it’s all drowned out by the roar in his ears and the intense focus on catching up with the vehicle arcing through the air. 

“Sam! What the hell are you doing!”

The car hits the water hard, bits of the front end crumpling before it starts to go under. 

“SAM!”  Steve’s voice registers just as he arcs up so he can dive properly.  “DON’T!”  The fear in his voice is obvious, but it doesn’t matter.  Sam has to do this.

There’s a response on his lips, assurances, promises he’ll be fine.  He’ll be right back.  But they’re yanked from him by the lightning that strikes his wings, not killing him instantly simply by the grace of Stark’s latest addition of insulation on his suit. 

It doesn’t kill him.

But his wings are deader than shit.

He’s falling uncontrollably for a moment, no time to panic, no time to think.  Sam breaks the emergency releases on his pack then gets control of his fall, straightens out his body, feet first and arms crossed.  He’d gotten hit quite a bit higher than he would usually make this kind of jump and it’s going to fucking hurt.

At the last second a massive storm surge comes up to meet him, and his body slips into the water. 

The car hasn’t gone down far yet, and he can still see the lights of it through his flight goggles.  Training long since passed kicks in and Sam starts to swim, operating purely on muscle memory and adrenaline.  There’s nothing in his head, no thoughts, no fears, just his goal.

Both passengers are still alive, and panicking, which is to be expected.  They have almost no air left as the car fills with water, and thankfully, are keeping themselves as high as possible.  Sam can’t open the door until the pressure as equalized, and if they didn’t have but seconds of air left before the interior was full he’d break the glass.  But that wouldn’t save any time at this point.

Heartbeats pass, every single one of them a thunderous beat in Sam’s ears.

The second the air inside is gone Sam yanks the door open gesturing for both of them to come close.  The first one kicks out fast but the other is still panicking, still moving every direction except the right one.  So Sam pushes the first upwards while he dives down himself and gets his arms under the shoulders on the second.  He’s a scrawny man, but in his panic, limbs going everywhere, manages to knocks Sam’s goggles askew.  They aren’t gone, but useless at this point.

He can’t wait any longer, takes a tight grip of the man in his arms and starts kicking upwards.

Every inch of his skin is starting to tingle from the lack of oxygen, head and lungs feeling like he’s going to explode.  But he keeps kicking, keeps taking them to the surface. 

When he breaks through the first rush of oxygen is salty, icy, and the greatest relief he’s felt in ages.  The second greatest relief of the moment, is the sound of the man in his arms taking in a lung full of air as well. 

“HEY!”  Sam’s passenger is still panicking.  He looks around for the other man while keeping his own voice steady and focused.  “I need you to calm down.  We gotta find your buddy!”  Lightning streaks across the sky, rolling with thunder before the light even fades, the sound shaking the very air and water around them.  Not very far from them, treading water on his own – thank god – is the other passenger.  “Hey, man.  Look!  We have to get to your friend.  But I can’t do that with you trying to pull us back under.”  Sam spits out a mouth full of saltwater and shakes he head a few times.  Slowly, the man in his arms starts to stop flailing his limbs.

“What’s your name?”

“Archangelo!”  He eventually spits out, heavy Italian accent apparent in just his name. 

“Right, I’m callin you Archie, got it?”  Archie nods. “Good, can you swim?”  To that, Archie shakes his head. 

“If you feel yourself about to go under, just don’t breathe in and trust me.  Got that Archie?”  Another nod and Sam doesn’t wait for anything else.  He adjusts his grip with one arm still under Archie’s shoulders, and starts swimming. 

Every inch of his body hurts, his lungs burn, he can barely see.  The waves are relentless, and the rain heavy enough he may as well not be above water.  But Sam keeps going, keeps pushing. 

But before he can get to him, Sam knows something is wrong.  The man keeps dipping below the water, and not with the natural course of the waves.  The treading he’d been doing goes erratic, and when lightning flashes once more he can see the way his head is circling around. 

So Sam moves faster, kicks harder.

And watches, helpless, as the man slips under one last time.

“No!  No no no no, FUCK!”  There’s no possible way for him to get to him and keep Archie above water.  If this was a pool or even a calm sea he could possibly chance giving lightning fast instructions then going down for a few precious seconds.  But in this water, in the storm raging around them, there aren’t any seconds to spare.

“Nick!!  NICK!”  In Sam’s arm Archie starts freaking out again, splashing around looking for his friend.  And Sam can’t do much about that, continues to force a calm tone to tell him to settle down, to stop moving while Sam starts kicking his own legs in opposite circles in order to keep them both afloat.

“Archie, listen.  You see that?”  A streak crosses the sky and this time it’s not lightning.  “That’s Vision.  He’s going to go down and get Nick, alright?  Just stay calm.  We’re going to get him.”

The second Vision comes in close Sam directs him down, watching as he disappears and resurfaces before Sam can even process the sight of him.  In his arms, cradled close to his chest, is the limp body of Nick.  “Iron Man is on his way.”  He says in the calm, clear tone he always uses before flying off to the shore. 

Sam’s getting tired.  Maybe if he hadn’t been fighting and working rescue for so long before this, if he’d come in here clean he’d be fine.  But he doesn’t have much left in him and the sight of the red and gold nearly has him weeping for joy.  Thor is next to him, coming in low to scoop Archie out of Sam’s hands.

Just as another wave threatens to tug Sam under, a blue gloved hand reaches out and grabs his arm in a tight hold, and Sam finds himself hoisted out of the water not by Iron Man, but _onto_ Iron Man. 

“What the hell were you thinking!”  Steve shouts, and Sam can hear the anger and lingering fear in his voice, but is too distracted by the fact that Captain America is sitting on Iron Man’s ass to really worry about it.  Also, far too exhausted.  As they start to move forward, staying close to the water, Steve clings to him with one arm while holding onto Tony’s back.

“No canoodling on my back, you two.  Or I’m putting this in my memoirs as the hottest threesome ever.”

Sam just drops his head onto Steve’s shoulder, and tries to remember how to breathe. 

**

“You’re up early, even for you.”

Steve’s still somewhat sleep cracked voice breaks the silence of the kitchen where Sam is leaning over the counter, reading a paper. “Good morning to you, too.  I’ve got bacon in the oven.”  He says with a smirk over his shoulder.  Steve comes up behind him and wraps himself around Sam, clinging with his entire body like he always does, solid and warm. 

A chill goes down Sam’s spine when he gets kisses pressed to the side of his neck.  “I can smell that.” Steve mumbles against Sam’s skin.  “Doesn’t explain why you’re awake at four am when we don’t have anywhere to be today.”  His grip goes a little tighter and Sam takes a deep breath.

“I wanted bacon.”  With a quiet sigh, and not wanting to bother Steve with the fact that he hadn’t actually slept at all, Sam covers Steve’s arms with his own and leans back into the embrace.  “Can’t a man just get up and make some bacon.”

There’s a long silence where they simply enjoy existing in each other’s arms, Steve taking a deep breath, nose pressed just below Sam’s ear and Sam getting lost in the feeling of Steve’s heartbeat pressed against his back.  “Mm, only if you plan on sharing.”

“I could possibly be talked into giving you a piece or two.” 

Steve nips at Sam’s neck with a teasing bite in retribution for his sass, and Sam momentarily forgets that he hasn’t slept in two days.

**

It’s three days after the frogs and Sam still hasn’t slept.  He’d thought a senate hearing would help with that - he’s sat in on a few in the past and they’ve always knocked him right out.  But this one is exactly the opposite of what he’s expecting.

Of course, that tends to happen when Steve Rogers and Tony Stark are present.

Doesn’t help that half way through Tony stands up, and fucking _agrees_ with the committee.  The entire room erupts into commotion and the argument that breaks out between Captain America and Iron Man, right there in front of the media, god, and everyone, is going to go down in the history books. 

At the end of the day, Steve is a strung out mess.  He’s spitting mad and on edge like Sam has rarely ever seen him.  So he takes him to the gym and lets Steve destroy several punching bags before taking him home and letting him destroy their sheets. 

Sam draws everything out, strings his pleasure along until Steve is almost begging for it, then fucks him deeply, a raw, vigorous movement that has them both out of breath and blissed out on the pure, white hot pleasure of it all.  They seem to both find the temporary escape they need within each other, focused on their pleasure and the pleasure of the other.  It’s a temporary high that zaps them both of any remaining energy.  Exhausted from lack of sleep and weary from his heavy heart, Sam falls asleep within minutes of Steve, curled up on his chest and warm all the way through for the first time in days.

But it doesn’t last.

When Sam opens his eyes from the nightmare the clock tells him he’s barely been asleep three hours.

And he’s cold again.

He groans and buries his face in the pillow in frustration.

“Sorry I woke you.” 

Sam looks up in surprise to see Steve propped against the headboard with a tablet in his hands, the brightness turned low in an obvious attempt not to disturb Sam.  “No, you didn’t… what are you doing awake, baby?”  He sits up and rubs his eyes before pressing himself against Steve’s side, kissing his shoulder and laying his head down to look at what he’s reading.

“Slept for maybe an hour.  Tops.  Mind wouldn’t rest. I’ve got a lot of precedence to catch up with if I’m going to make my argument stick.”  Sam tries to read what Steve’s got pulled up, to see where he’s starting, but his eyes won’t quite focus on what’s in front of them. 

“Want something to drink?”

Steve looks at him curiously for a moment then sets his tablet down, cradling Sam’s face and giving him a slow and lingering kiss.  “You should go back to sleep.  Really.  I’ll be okay.”

But when Sam thinks about the weightless feeling of water, the flashes of light, the emptiness all around and in every wave, images he can’t shake or distract himself from when he’s asleep…

He knows he can’t do it.  “Nah.  You need all the help you can get.”  Sam knows Steve is watching him closely, not quite accepting that excuse.  But he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t push for more, and for that, Sam is eternally grateful. 

**

Once its morning proper they dress as inconspicuously as Captain America and his boyfriend possibly can (they rarely make it an entire day without _someone_ recognizing them, they don’t exactly blend in) and head to the New York Bar association’s library.  The internet is great but it’s just a starting point.  Hours and hours of research takes their day away from them, pouring over case law and Supreme Court decisions, not just the outcomes but the arguments that went into them and the cases made in descent.  Sam is intently focused on it all, on the research and the endless list of notes they’re taking.  So much so that when Steve comes up behind him and grabs him lightly by the shoulders, telling him it’s time to go, Sam is genuinely surprised by the hour.

“How long have we been here?”  He asks, checking his phone. 

“Long enough.  But that’s not important. I’ve got one other thing I need to do today.”  Steve gives him a quick squeeze before wandering off towards the front desk to pay for the scans and copies they’d made throughout the day.

There’s a cab already waiting for them outside, but Sam doesn’t think anything of it until much later, when it becomes apparent to him they aren’t heading home.  “Where are we going?”  The city is thinning out bit by bit.

Steve grabs Sam’s hand in his, holds him tight, and brings it up to press a soft kiss to his knuckles.  “You’ll see in a minute.”

And true to his word, a few minutes later, Sam sees.  Sees quite clearly as the vast expanse of a cemetery comes into view.  His heart plummets and he feels like the temperature in the car drops ten degrees instantly.  There’s a tremor in his hand and he won’t look at Steve.  “This is a horrible idea.”

“Just trust me?”

Sam stays silent, accepting by way of not making any further protest. 

They park a good distance from the funeral procession that has just arrived, ask the driver to wait for them, and make their way across the grass. Steve stops them under a tree, just close enough to hear what is being said if they really listen, but nowhere near enough to intrude. 

For a long time they stand in the near silence, the sun warm and inviting overhead, a gentle breeze blowing through keeping everything the perfect temperature. 

Steve never lets go of Sam’s hand, and the tightness in Sam’s chest is ready to crush him.  “Why did you bring me here?”

“Because I’ve been waiting for four days for you to say something.  For you to admit how much this has torn you apart.”  He speaks softly, rubbing his thumb in small circles around the back of Sam’s hand.  The touch is grounding.

“I didn’t – “  Sam swallows the lump in his throat.  “You didn’t need to worry about me with everything else going on.  We lose people.  It happens.  I shouldn’t have let this get to me so much, I…”

“Sam.”  Steve turns slightly so they’re actually looking at each other.  “When was the last time you lost someone that you, specifically, had set out to save?”

That’s when the first tear finally falls, streaking down his face while Steve reaches with his other hand to carefully wipe it away.  “A long ass time.”  He admits.

“Exactly.  And besides, if you weren’t the kind of man who reacted like this, then I wouldn’t be standing here at your side, hopelessly in love with you.”  Steve’s smile is sad, and Sam hangs his head, nodding.  He speaks so quietly, like he’s hurting for Sam and somehow that helps more than he’d thought it would.  “But you need to tell me.  Let me help you, Sam.  Tell me when you need me to hold you up next time?  So I don’t have to guess.”

With a melancholy huff of a laugh Sam agrees, biting his lip to keep from continuing to tear up like his body is trying very hard to do.  “Still.  I don’t know if this was the best place to point it out.”  He knows it was a considerate gesture, but even this far away, Sam feels like he’s just intruding.

“Well…”  Steve nods in the direction of the slowly breaking apart crowd where a single figure is heading their direction.  “We were invited.”

“Come again?”

“He didn’t know who you were, but figured Captain America could get word to you.  I’m pretty easy to get in touch with, and well, he wasn’t wrong.” 

“Good, good!  You made it!”  Steve takes half a step back and gestures towards Sam.  The man approaching them smiles.  He is tall, but extremely slim, with dark black curls clinging to his head, cheeks and eyes red and puffy from crying.  It’s the accent that gives him away though.

“Archie?”  Sam is shocked.

Even more-so when Archie nods and throws his arms around Sam, pulling him into a fierce hug.  “I was hoping you would come.”

For a moment, Sam stutters, trying to catch his breath and clear his head.  “Wh- Why?”

“I wanted to say thank you.”  Archie pats his back and pulls away, holding onto Sam’s arms.  “For me and for my Nick.  The doctor said he hit his head, bleeding on the inside.  There was nothing to be done.  But because of you, I have his body to bury, and he can rest at peace beside his family.” 

Something in Sam’s heart twists, and his breath stutters.  He wants to say something but for once, can’t manage a single word.  Sam nods, feeling the tears welling up in his eyes again, and the weight of thousands of gallons of water lifted from his chest.

Steve says something to Archie, and Archie keeps thanking Sam over and over, their words a gentle roar in Sam’s ears.  Eventually, Archie makes his good byes, rejoining his family and leaving Sam and Steve standing in the later afternoon shade of the oak tree.

When he’s gone, Steve is close again, in his space and pulling him in. 

“You can’t save everyone, Sam.”  He grabs both of Sam’s hands in his and brings them up to his lips, kissing his knuckles and making sure to keep his gaze.  “And sometimes, it’s okay to let someone else save _you._ ”

Slowly Sam smiles, resting his head against Steve’s over their entwined fingers, and lets himself be held up.  “Thank you.”  He says quietly, with all of his heart.

 

 

 

 


End file.
